Meet the referees behind South Carolina football’s summer 7-on-7 tournaments
Randy Boley patrols the sidelines of the Jerri and Steve Spurrier Indoor Practice Facility with a quiet, unassuming gait.
His graying mustache has worn with age. The white visor with a South Carolina logo emblazoned on the front and an autograph from Gamecocks head coach Shane Beamer on the right side of the bill elicit images of the man for whom USC’s indoor facility is named.
Boley is a known commodity to the men strolling along fields with whistles clenched in their fists. He’s been refereeing football games in South Carolina since 1979. For the past 23-plus years he’s also operated as the Midlands area football director for the South Carolina Independent Schools Association.
On a recent Friday in June, Boley kept watch of the more than 19 referees officiating the final day of 7-on-7 tournaments held at USC. He’s the man who runs the show.
“(South Carolina is) pleased with what we do,” Boley said. “That’s why they keep calling us every year.”
On summer afternoons, Boley watches over anywhere from 19 to 25 officials as they bounce between the 10 fields set up at South Carolina’s indoor facility and the fields down National Guard Road.
Cooler temperatures on this day and the air-conditioned indoor facility help the men avoid the usually debilitating and hellish heat mid-summer days in Columbia often offer.
Grabbing a swig of Gatorade out of a green plastic cup between the outdoor fields behind USC’s weight room, referee Stan Morgan jokes he almost always heads for the water cooler when a 20-minute 7-on-7 game wraps up this time of year.
There are, of course, complicating layers to the job. Parents have grown increasingly hostile toward referees. Andrew MacMillan concedes he’s only had to be led out of a stadium with a police escort once, but notes it comes with the territory.
Fifty percent of the time one team is happy, 50 percent of the time they’re irate. Such is life for the people charged with orchestrating a clean and fair competition.
In refereeing, though, there’s a general camaraderie among the group. During lunch hour the day before, 16 officials gathered in a circle, some armed with plastic fold-up chairs they brought, others grabbing some that were scattered around the facility. Amid the madness of high school prospects racing in and around the fields, the black-and-white-striped contingent of men sat together for a quick bite and an hours-worth of conversation.
“It’s like a striped union,” said George Hampton, a former Citadel football player and one of the referees under Boley’s watch. “It’s a striped brotherhood.”
Seated near the 45-yard-line, the group spans generations of ages and race. Morgan is among the elder statesman at 76 years old. He picked up football refereeing when his kids began playing in the park system in Irmo and parents were encouraged to officiate. He hasn’t stopped in 25 years.
“You see the pads, you hear the pads and it brings back a lot of memories from playing,” Morgan, a former linebacker and defensive end in his playing days, said.
Jackson Cantey, the son of longtime official John Cantey, is one of the youngest in the group. His officiating career spans four seasons as he’s only a handful of years removed from high school himself.
Dan Boothe has been officiating for between 11 and 12 years, beginning initially through his church. But even after more than a decade working sidelines around the state, he swears he’s got years before he’d consider himself grizzled.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be a veteran,” Boothe said. “I think even when I retire from this game, I’ll still be the rookie. I’ll still be the guy learning. Once you get to the point where you don’t think you can learn more, that’s the time to walk away.”
For a part-time job that pays primarily in sore muscles and sweat-soaked shirts, there’s little financial incentive for the men racing along the hash marks at the Gamecocks’ facility. Events like 7-on-7 tournaments bring a base payout of between $50 and $80 depending on how many games one officiates.
With the money secondary, most every official balances their refereeing responsibilities with a day job. Boley owns an insurance company and a drivers ed school. Boothe is a firefighter in Aiken. MacMillan is an engineer at the Savannah River Site dealing with nuclear material.
Officiating, most explain, is a passion. Together it creates a borderline religious brotherhood among the men in the black-and-white-striped cloth.
“I think it’s the way God designed life to be,” MacMillan said. “You’ve got people around you looking out for you.”
The brotherhood hits especially close to home for the man charged with facilitating it.
On Christmas Eve morning in 2010, Boley’s son Zackery was killed in a car crash at just 25 years old. A referee himself, Zackery had followed in his old man’s footsteps and had begun umpiring in his youth.
When Zackery was laid to rest, the church overflowed with men who’d refereed alongside him and his father. Instead of a preacher’s sermon, a trio of referees spoke as the Boleys celebrated the life of their son.
“Everybody looks out for everybody,” Boley said somberly. “It’s a way to form a new family.”
This story was originally published June 26, 2021 at 5:00 AM.
